“Dev…”
“Not now, Sarah.”
They rode the rest of the way in silence. As soon as they reached the ledge, Toklanni slid off the back of the stallion and sank to his knees.
Moving slowly and awkwardly, Sarah dismounted, then knelt beside Devlin, wondering where to begin. “Dev? Devlin!”
He blinked up at her. “Saddlebags.”
Rising to her feet, she rummaged in his saddlebags, withdrawing a long strip of muslin and a small bottle of whiskey.
Devlin took several swallows of whiskey while she doused the rag with water from his canteen and washed the blood from his shoulder.
When that was done, she rinsed the cloth, soaked it with water and then pressed it against the bruises that discolored his chest and shoulders. There were numerous raised red welts on his arms and legs, more bruises on his back and buttocks, but nothing seemed to be broken.
With an effort, she unsaddled the horse, then spread the blanket on the ground. She bit back the urge to cry as she watched Devlin stretch out on the blanket. Sitting beside him, she cradled his head in her lap.
“Oh, Devlin.” She smoothed a lock of hair from his forehead, lightly stroked his cheek.
“Did he hurt you?”
“No.” Her fingertips traced his lower lip.
“Are you all right?”
“Fine.” She pressed her lips together, fighting the urge to cry. “I was so afraid.”
Devlin caught one of her hands in his. “I know.”
“Not for myself,” she murmured. “Esatai wouldn’t hurt me. I was only afraid I’d never see you again.”
“Sarah.” He gazed up at her, wishing he didn’t hurt so bad, wishing he could take her in his arms and hold her close. But this wasn’t the time or the place and as much as he hated to admit it, he didn’t have the strength.
“I knew you’d look for me,” she said, her fingers entwining with his, “but I didn’t think you’d ever find me.”
Toklanni smiled at her. “I’ll always come for you, Sarah.”
“I know. How’s Danny?”
“Fine.” His eyelids fluttered down as a soul-shattering weariness overcame him. “He’s with Joe…”
A fierce tenderness filled Sarah’s heart as she stared down at her sleeping husband. He had crossed miles of wilderness to find her, had suffered a brutal beating at the hands of his enemies. Surely no one in all the world had a man like hers.
Chapter Eight
Toklanni woke with a low groan. Sarah lay close beside him, her head nestled on his shoulder. Sometime during the night she had covered them with a blanket.
He lifted the edge, peering at his chest, which was a colorful mass of greenish yellow bruises and dull red welts.
With a sigh, he sank back and closed his eyes again. He had been in fights before. He’d been wounded numerous times in battle, but never in all his life had he hurt all over the way he did now.
Sarah sighed and shifted a little in her sleep and her hand, which had been resting on his stomach, slid down to his thigh. In spite of his weariness, in spite of the dull pain pounding through him, he felt an unmistakable stirring in his groin.
Opening his eyes, he turned to look at her. She looked like a princess in a fairy tale, he thought, waiting for the handsome prince to come along and waken her with love’s first kiss.
A wry grin tugged at the corner of Toklanni’s mouth. Not by any stretch of the imagination would be ever be considered a handsome prince. Heroes in fairy tales always seemed to be fair-haired, with bright blue eyes and near-perfect features. None he’d ever heard of had scarred faces and Indian blood.
He watched Sarah for a long while, saw a ghost of a smile flit across her face. And then her eyelids fluttered open and he found himself gazing into the clear blue depths of her eyes.
“Good morning,” she murmured.
“Morning. What were you dreaming about?”
“You, of course.” A faint flush colored her cheeks. “Why are you staring at me?”
“I was just thinking how pretty you are.” He cleared his throat. “Like a princess in a story book,” he added, feeling foolish as he said the words aloud.
“Funny you should say that,” she remarked, laughing softly, “because I was dreaming that I was being rescued from a fire-breathing dragon by a handsome young prince.”
“Oh?” Toklanni lifted one black brow. “Who played the prince?” he asked, a trace of bitterness creeping into his voice.
Sitting up, Sarah punched him lightly on the arm. “You, of course. Who do you think?”
Toklanni shrugged, grimacing as the movement sent a wave of renewed pain coursing through his right shoulder.
Sarah frowned at him for a moment and then sighed. He was thinking of his scars, she knew it without a doubt. It had been a long time since she had even thought about them. She could remember her feeling of revulsion the first time she had seen him, the bile that had churned in the pit of her stomach when she tried to imagine the pain, wondering how he had survived such a terrible wound. Looking at him now, she saw only the man she loved. Toklanni held her gaze, his expression impassive. He knew Sarah loved him in spite of his scars and yet, sometimes, without warning or provocation, he couldn’t help but wonder if, deep down, she wasn’t repelled just a little.
“Devlin…”
He shook his head. “Forget it.”
With infinite tenderness, Sarah traced the scar on his cheek and then, leaning forward, she kissed him, her lips trailing over the faint white line that ran from his cheekbone to his jaw, then on down his neck.
“Sarah, don’t.”
“Why?”
“Just don’t.”
She stared up at him, taken aback by his gruff tone. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Devlin Dennehy, you stop this nonsense right now. Those scars don’t mean a thing. They never did. I don’t even see then anymore.” She laid her hand on his arm. “I don’t know why you let it bother you.”
He was being foolish and he knew it. “I’m sorry. Why don’t you put the coffee on?”
“Devlin…”
“I’m fine.” He turned away from her, digging into his saddlebags for the jerky and pemmican that would have to pass for breakfast.
His thoughts were grim as he stared into the flames, waiting for the coffee to boil. The house and barn were gone. The stock was gone. All they had were the clothes on their backs and a baby that was due in less than a month.
Toklanni swore softly. He’d have to take Sarah to town, find a job, a place to live until they could rebuild…assuming Sarah wanted to start over again. After all she’d been through, he wouldn’t be surprised if she wanted to take up town living, permanently.
The thought left a bad taste in his mouth. He hadn’t minded giving up the freedom of his old life to live on the ranch. In spite of having to live within four walls, he had still been free, able to come and go as he pleased, with no one to answer to but himself. But to live in town, to be forced to work for someone else, keep hours that were set for him…he shook his head, knowing he’d hate it. But what choice did he have?
They ate their meager breakfast in silence. Toklanni saddled the gray. He insisted Sarah put on the heavy coat Joe Loomis had lent him, then helped her into the saddle, wincing as he climbed up behind her.
Sarah placed her hand over the arm around her waist and gave it a squeeze. He was a colorful sight this morning, his whole body discolored and swollen from the beating of the day before. “Where are we going?”
“Pepper Tree Creek, I guess. I’ll get you settled into the hotel, then go get Danny.”
“Is everything gone? The house, the barn, everything?”
“Yeah.”
“Don’t blame yourself. It would have happened even if you’d been home. You might have been killed if you’d been there. Danny, too.”
“Maybe.”
“Devlin, please.”
“I don’t fee
l like Devlin right now,” he muttered.
He wasn’t acting like Devlin, either, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on what was different. Concerned, she asked, “What can I do?”
“Nothing. We’ll go to town,” he said, putting his thoughts into words for the first time. “I’ll find a job.”
“We can sell the land,” Sarah suggested, hoping to ease his mind. “We could use the money to buy a house.”
“If that’s what you want.”
She glanced over her shoulder, wanting to see his face. “What do you want?”
“I don’t know.”
“Devlin, talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong?”
Slowly, he shook his head.
“We can rebuild if you don’t want to live in town.”
“It’s up to you.”
Exasperated, Sarah faced forward again. As the miles slipped by, she tried to figure out what was bothering him. He couldn’t be questioning her love. Surely he couldn’t still be upset by his scars, not at this late date. She wondered if he was blaming himself for the attack on the ranch, but that didn’t make sense, either. It wasn’t his fault the Comanches had burned the house and kidnapped her. It would have happened if he had been there or not.
It had to be the thought of living in town that had him so depressed. She knew that he would hate it. Even though most of the townspeople had learned to accept him, there were still some who looked at him with contempt and mistrust. Most of the tribes had been moved to reservations, but there were still occasional outbursts of warfare, raids on outlying homesteads and ranches. Cattle and horses were stolen, fences were cut, telegraph lines were pulled down. She shivered. Women were kidnapped.
“I don’t want to live in town,” Sarah said, her voice light. “I think we should rebuild.”
Toklanni grunted. “With what?”
“We’ll get a loan from the bank.”
“Yeah. I’m sure old man Simms will be glad to lend us the money.”
Sarah uttered a very unladylike oath. Devlin was right. Ralph Simms wouldn’t give Devlin the time of day, let alone lend him enough money to rebuild the house and the barn. The banker’s wife and children had been killed years ago by a Kiowa raiding party. He’d had no use for Indians ever since.
“Maybe we can build from scratch. I’m sure Joe Loomis would help. And Jim Howell and his brother.”
“Maybe.”
With a wordless cry of frustration, Sarah grabbed hold of the reins and gave a sharp jerk, bringing the stallion to a halt. Turning around as best she could, she stared at her husband.
“Devlin Dennehy, I don’t know what’s bothering you, but you’re making me damned angry! I love you. I don’t care about your scars. I don’t care what anyone else thinks of my choice of husband. I don’t care about the house burning down….well, not very much. What matters is that you’re safe, that Danny’s safe. I don’t care if we stay in town, or try to rebuild the ranch, as long as we’re together. Do you understand that?”
He grinned at her in spite of himself, amused by the rage that danced in her eyes, by the flush of heated color in her cheeks. He didn’t think he had ever seen her so angry before. Or so beautiful.
“It’s very becoming,” he remarked.
Sarah frowned at him, her anger momentarily forgotten. “What is?”
“Your anger.”
“My anger.” She expelled a deep breath. “Are you trying to make me crazy?”
He shook his head and then, ever so slowly, leaned toward her, blocking everything from her sight but the love shining in his dark eyes. His mouth was warm when it covered hers, filled with tenderness.
“I’m sorry, Sarah,” he murmured, tucking a wisp of hair behind her ear. “I rode like hell to rescue you from the Comanches and now that I have, I’ve got nothing to give you. You were better off with Esatai. At least he had a home to give you, shelter from the storm that’s coming.”
“Oh, Dev,” she said, feeling helpless. “Everything will work out, you’ll see.”
He nodded, but she knew he didn’t believe her. Reaching behind him, he unrolled the blanket tied behind the saddle and draped it over her head and shoulders. Only then did she notice that the sky was rapidly turning black. There was, indeed, a storm coming.
“You take it,” she said, starting to remove the blanket. “I’ve got your coat.”
“Keep it,” he said gruffly. He pulled the blanket over her head again with a firm but gentle hand. “You need it more than I do.”
Toklanni urged the gray into a lope, his narrowed eyes scanning the land for refuge, but there appeared to be only miles and miles of flat ground.
He pushed the horse hard for the next hour, his concern for Sarah growing with each passing mile. The baby was due in less than three weeks. He wasn’t a doctor, but he was pretty sure that spending hours on the back of a horse in the pouring rain probably wasn’t good for a woman in her condition, or for the child she carried.
Oh, Lord, please don’t let anything happen to this baby, or to Sarah. Please, let this child be strong and healthy. Please…
It was near dusk when they found shelter in the lee of a rocky overhang in a small canyon. Toklanni lifted Sarah from the back of the horse, heard the small groan she tried to stifle as her feet touched the ground.
Moving quickly, he stripped the saddle from the horse, spread the blanket on the ground beneath the overhang and helped Sarah to sit down. There was no dry wood for a fire, nothing to eat but jerky and pemmican, but she didn’t complain.
“Come sit beside me,” she urged. “It’ll be warmer if we sit close.”
“You’re a remarkable woman, Sarah Dennehy,” he remarked, putting his arm around her and holding her close. “Why aren’t you complaining about the cold and the rain and the lousy food?”
“I don’t mind the cold and I like the rain,” she said, smiling up at him. “And lousy food is better than no food at all.”
“True enough,” he muttered, remembering times past when the Apache had been close to starving, when they’d eaten their horses and their dogs and anything else they could get a hold of. When the old ones went out in the snow to die so there’d be more food for the rest of the tribe.
Sarah cupped his cheek in her palm. “Everything will be all right, Devlin. I know it will.”
“Yeah.”
“Trust me, Devlin,” she murmured, her eyelids fluttering down. “Just this once…”
At the first touch of her lips on his, all his worries and doubts faded into oblivion. She was woman, the giver of life and solace, the bearer of sorrows. She was his wife, willing and able to stand beside him during good times and bad. For richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health…
He had chosen his woman wisely, he thought. He only hoped he would not let her down, that she would never have cause to regret choosing him as her husband.
“Sarah.” He murmured her name, knowing that wherever they lived, he would always be at home in Sarah’s arms.
Chapter Nine
It rained for the next two days. Sarah was cold and wet all the time, but she never complained. Her stoic attitude only made Toklanni love her more. She had every right to be miserable and unhappy, but she was the one who was unfailingly cheerful, who was constantly assuring him that everything would be all right.
He’d managed to kill a rabbit the morning of the second day. That evening, he’d found a handful of dry wood and they had a hot meal for the first time in three days.
He watched Sarah carefully, worried by the dark shadows under her eyes. She ate little and fell asleep almost as soon as he lifted her off the horse, but she assured him she was fine, just fine, and he had no choice but to believe her.
Silently, he cursed the rain, which made traveling slow and treacherous.
Toklanni woke early the following morning, a strong sense of unease coursing through him. Sarah lay beside him, sleeping peacefully. For several minutes, he stayed where he was, keeping his eyes closed and hi
s breathing slow and even. He could hear the stallion cropping damp grass, the chatter of a jay and then, abruptly, there was only silence. The gray whickered softly and stamped its foot.
With an oath, Toklanni rolled to the left, away from Sarah, grabbing his rifle as he did so. He had barely cleared the blankets when he heard the soft thwack of an arrow pierce the ground where he had been laying only a moment before.
Toklanni sprang to his feet, rifle at the ready as he peered into the thick fog, searching for some sign of his attacker.
“What is it?”
He heard Sarah’s voice, heavy with worry, but he dared not spare a glance in her direction. “Stay down,” he warned.
A second arrow hissed through the gray dawn, slamming into the ground at Toklanni’s feet. He jerked around, the rifle swinging in the direction the arrow had come from, and the third arrow, meant for his heart, buried itself high in the fleshy part of his left arm.
He fired twice, blindly, instinctively, heard a harsh cry of pain, and then Esatai stumbled into view, his buckskin shirt sodden with blood.
“No, oh, no,” Sarah murmured. She stared at the Comanche warrior as he staggered toward her, one hand pressed against the dreadful wound near his heart, his other hand outstretched, reaching toward her.
Sarah shook her head, tears stinging her eyes, as he continued toward her. She slid a glance at Devlin, searching his eyes for…what? Understanding? Sympathy?
He had neither. His face was set in hard implacable lines as he watched the deadly crimson stain spread across the front of the warrior’s shirt, watched the strength drain out of the warrior’s body.
Slowly, Esatai dropped to his knees, his gazed fixed on Sarah’s face. “My…woman…”
Unable to help herself, Sarah went to him. Kneeling beside him, she cradled him in her arms, her hand holding his.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured brokenly. “So sorry.”
With an effort, Esatai lifted his other hand, his fingers touching the gold of her hair, caressing her cheek.
“Tu…su…naru…nue…” he murmured, and then the light went out of his eyes. His hand dropped lifelessly to his side.
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